Morning Routine
by JustClem
Summary: Chloe and Max wake up in the morning and try to be responsible adults. Hilarity and cuteness ensues.


Max wakes up to soft skin pressed against her cheek, one arm latched onto her back, and a faint heartbeat that doesn't belong to her, reverberating in her ear, strong, as though it wants to be heard.

She isn't truly awake. It's just that some part - a small part, she admits - of her brain has woken up. And that small part is content to stay where she is, only half awake, enjoying everything there's to enjoy.

Max, wearing a t-shirt and no pants, sighs a tranquil sigh and snuggles deeper, curling into herself as she adjusts her position, lying on her side, on top of Chloe, whose nightwear consists of a tank-top and boxers.

This has become her morning routine, for the past few years.

This is _their_ morning routine. It's messy, inconsistent - unnecessary, at times - but it's a routine she'll not trade for anything.

After all she's been through, mundane and silly are things she's grateful for, things she strives for.

Max releases a deep breath and is about to fall asleep again…

But the familiar tune of a heavy guitar riff, followed by a screaming man jolts her from her sleep. Shock rouses her from sleep, the hand she has on Chloe pressing down, the cozy feeling of sleep fleeting.

The shock wears off. Max reaches out to the nightstand, where her phone is, without leaving Chloe, and shuts off the dreadful alarm after three times, groaning when she's done it, face planting into Chloe's chest at the prospect of having to get up.

Chloe, on the other hand, snorts, furrows her brows, and wakes up in a peaceful manner, unbothered by the abomination they call 'metal music'.

Chloe shifts, and makes a small noise at the back of her throat. Max lifts her head to catch Chloe with her gentle blue eyes, smiling in that cute 'I just woke up' look. "Hey, there…"

Max frowns, because Chloe is always cute in the morning, and presses her face back in Chloe's chest, groaning. "Why do you keep insisting on putting that as my alarm?"

"_Our_ alarm, sweetie," Chloe corrects.

"Whatever," Max grumbles, her voice muffled. Her irritation subsides when she feels calloused fingers pressing against her hair, petting her.

"Because it's the only alarm that wakes us up," says Chloe, chipper despite having woken up seconds ago. "And your hipster music has the opposite effect."

"Still, though…" Chloe chases away the rest of her irritation by pressing her lips against Max's head, nuzzling her nose into her hair, drawing a smile from Max.

They stay that way. Just… breathing, existing, thinking meaningless thoughts - or maybe not really thinking. It's nice. To just exist with someone. To sleep and wake up with that someone. To share a bed. To share an apartment. To share a home. To be _each other's_ home.

"We should probably get up," sighs Max despite not wanting to move.

Chloe groans in protest before wrapping both of her arms into Max's body, holding her in place as though she would escape at any minute.

"No," is the childish protest.

Max giggles, shifts so she can see Chloe, who's forcing her eyes to stay shut, her brows knitted.

"Chloe..." Max pushes herself so she's able to press a kiss on her cheek, which elicits a sigh and a softening of Chloe's face. "C'mon, Chlo, we have, like, adult things to do and stuff."

Chloe chuckles in endearment at Max's choice of words, as though they're kids who happen to have adults' bodies instead of, well, actual adults. Chloe can't blame her. Even she has trouble grasping the concept of her being an actual, legit adult who works and pays taxes.

It takes Chloe many months to break the habit of sneaking beer into their apartment, much to Max's delight and amusement.

"Fine. Let's get up."

Neither of them get up and neither are surprised.

This is always how their morning goes.

It's like a game of "I'm moving when you are" and it's hella unnecessary but damn it, Chloe won't move out of the bed unless Max is subjecting herself to the same torture!

A beat passes.

And another.

And Chloe sighs.

"… You win, Caufield," Chloe growls, electing a thriumpanth chuckle from Max. Chloe, gentle, pushes Max off of her, rolling to the edge of the bed, onto her stomach, arms and feet spread out, muttering a low "ugh" that drones for a couple of seconds.

Max, for her credit, tries to get up as well, but it's still morning and they're both sleepy so they somehow get tangled together again, their positions almost reversed - Max on top of Chloe. They blink, look at each other, notice the absurdity, and laugh at it. It's stupid, but they keep laughing anyway.

Truly, they are the adultest of adults.

Chloe drags Max out of bed once she herself manages to resist its temptations. For such a cutie, Max can be real grumpy in the mornings.

Chloe opens up their wardrobe and makes a humming sound, wondering which clothing Max should wear today. It's not that Max doesn't have a bad taste, per se, it's just that Max _used_ to have a bad taste and, after Chloe's drilling, now has a semi-decent taste that only appears when she's 100% awake.

And Max clearly isn't 100% awake, so…

"You good with this, yeah?" Chloe asks, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt with a picture of a doe. She waits until Max mumbles an affirmative before guiding her to the bathroom, kissing her on the forehead in the process. "C'mon. You got a photoshoot in, like, an hour." An hour and fifty minutes, actually, but Max doesn't need to know that. "Wash up good."

Max gives Chloe a doe-eyed look. Chloe keeps her face stern. Max relents after a couple of seconds, shuffling into the bathroom.

Damn, that girl can be a handful, sometimes.

She's so fucking worth it, though.

Chloe, with her shoulders slump, opens the fridge as she yawns. The sound of water pouring down the sink echoes from the bathroom. She rubs her eyes before checking the content inside.

"Max!" she calls out.

The water stops pouring, and she hears a muffled "mm?" and imagines Max, still sleepy, looking at her with wide eyes, a toothbrush still in her mouth.

"You cool with two scrambled eggs?"

Chloe hears a whine, and a squeak of "no!" and she's not having any of that.

"Dude, I'm giving you two eggs."

Chloe ignores the wail that emerges from the bathroom. If she remembers correctly, Max's photo sessions are jam packed today. Max needs the energy and all that jazz. That girl is a lightweight. Chloe is not about to let her girl pass out due to the lack of eggs in her tiny tummy, even if she's going to be given the stink-eye for, like, the entirety of the duration in which Max eats her breakfast.

Max emerges from the shower, her skin red due to the hot water, more awake and less groggy.

Max finds Chloe on the dinner table, munching on her cereal in a speed that worries Max. Like a zombie, she forces her feet to drag her to the chair next to her, not before kissing Chloe on the cheek, which draws a small squeal from Chloe. She rests her elbows on the table and her face on her hands.

Chloe pauses, looks at her, says a short, direct, uninterested "eat", and goes back to munching on her sweet sugary cereal, as though eating is more important than her girlfriend and fiancee.

Max looks down at her own breakfast and nausea coils in her stomach. "This is too much. I can't eat it all."

"Babe." Chloe gives her a deadpan look. "It's literally just two eggs."

"I can barely finish one," she huffs and returns the deadpan look with an accusing glare. "You know that."

"Yeah, and I also know that your schedule today is going to be hella packed."

With that, Chloe shuts Max up, and Max regains enough of her sensibility to try and eat something.

Chloe smirks every time Max takes a bite. The face she pulls is photo-worthy, and the only reason why Chloe hasn't taken a picture yet is because her phone's still charging. Oh, well, there's always tomorrow.

Max has this 'thing' where she hates food in the morning. Something about how eating so early erases the slippery feeling of slumber, or something. Chloe doesn't get it, but knows that it's not BS. It's why Chloe tries to keep Max's breakfast on the minimum, whenever she's cooking.

Max finishes one egg, takes a breath for a moment, and can't handle it anymore on the third bite of her last egg. Chloe, who's already finished with her own breakfast, winces. "Alright, alright. Gimme."

Sharing is caring, and shit.

Chloe finishes up the egg in less than a minute, dropping Max's jaw.

"H-how…?"

Chloe shrugs. "I like food."

She stands up, stretches, and unknowingly gives Max a Dog-damn good view of her pale, toned stomach. She looks at the clock on the ceiling. "Guess I better get ready too, huh."

Unlike Max, who takes hot showers for a super long time, Chloe doesn't take morning showers. For her, getting ready equals to brushing her teeth, washing her face, putting on deodorant, combing her already-short and straight and thin hair, and changing into her work clothes.

And for some reason, Chloe is able to manage all of that in three minutes. The mad lad.

Chloe scratches her neck as she strides to the living room. "C'mon," she says without looking at Max, eyes set on the exit door, mind set on work stuff.

"Wait!"

Chloe feels a hand grasping her wrist, and another tugging at the back of her shoulder. She turns and finds Max looking at her in disapprovement. Chloe opens her mouth, a question ready to be fired at her tongue, only to freeze when Max brushes her hands down Chloe's clothing, unwrinkling the wrinkles, adjusting it so it looks better on Chloe.

"Umm, thanks." Chloe shifts her weight to the other leg, and points her thumb at the door behind her. "We should probably-"

"Hold on." Max stands on her tippy toes, and Chloe, on instinct, leans down. Max straightens her hair and gives a satisfied, approving hum when she's finished. "Alright, now we can go."

Chloe pecks her on the forehead, nose, and settling in on her mouth. The kiss isn't filled with teenage passion, it's filled with the more adult stuff. The 'I'm settling in with you' stuff. The 'I literally can't imagine a future without you' stuff. Totally adult and relevant and different from how their kisses were. But that's alright, though. Just because it's different doesn't mean it's worse. It doesn't mean it's better, either. It's just different.

"Let's wreck shit up, Maxipad."

Fifty-four seconds later, Chloe and Max come rushing into the room because Chloe forgot her phone and Max forgot their apartment key.


End file.
